Dream Cottage

by Harriet J Kent

  “Sorry, they didn’t. I’m feeling rather tired; do you mind if I take a step outside, to get some air?” Nonie walked towards the back door.

  “No, of course not. Would you like some water?” Greta offered.

  “Yes, please.” Nonie opened the door and stepped into the garden. She found a large millstone, promptly sat down and took a ferry timetable from her handbag and fanned her face. She looked very pale.

  Greta, unsuccessful in her quest for a glass, carried a mug of water out to Nonie who took a sip along with a small pink tablet.

  “Sorry it’s in a mug, we haven’t brought any glasses over yet. Are you feeling okay?” Greta was concerned. She sat alongside Nonie who remained pale.

  “Just a little faint, dear,” she replied and sipped at the water. She looked up to the chimney once more. “It saps my energy; it’s such a nuisance.”

  “Tell me; what did you see up there?” Greta knew Nonie was hiding something from her.

  Nonie took a deep breath.

  “I… um, think I saw a shadow of a figure, maybe a man; I certainly saw a raised hand.” She took a slug of water with another tablet and made a face as she swallowed. “He was stood very defiant; like he was guarding the cottage. Then, when we were in the kitchen, he appeared by the well. He was very angry; said he didn’t want us there; sorry, Greta. I haven’t been much help.”

  “Did he say who he was?” Greta probed.

  “No, no, he didn’t,” Nonie replied. She wiped her mouth with a crumpled tissue she had retrieved from her handbag.

  “Do you know who he might be?” Greta continued.

  “Sorry, no. But he appears to be a very unhappy, restless spirit; I didn’t want to push him; spirits like these can be extremely dangerous if provoked. I kept my distance from him. One thing is for sure though…”

  “Yes?” Greta held her breath.

  “Greenacres will be a fantastic place to live, once you have finished the renovations!” Nonie got up from the millstone and handed Greta her empty mug. “Could I use your loo, please?”

  Deflated, Greta nodded in silence.

  “First door on left up the stairs. Mind the floor as you go. It might still be tacky from the stain.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Nonie disappeared back into the cottage.

  Greta’s phone vibrated. It was a message from Max.

  Hi, how are things at Greenacres? it read.

  Greta returned her message.

  Couldn’t be better x

  She decided not to update Max on the current catastrophe. She sighed as she thought about Nonie. She was having serious doubts about her capabilities as a medium. She was concerned that if Nonie were telling the truth, how would she get rid of the evil male spirit? She decided to tackle Nonie head on when she saw her appear at the back door.

  “What is the next course of action, Nonie?” She stood up from her cold stone seat.

  “Well, dear. There isn’t anything more I can do for now.” Nonie fumbled in her handbag.

  “What do you mean? Nothing more? I want to be rid of this evil spirit! I don’t want to be living under the same roof as him! You must be able to do something!” she was incredulous at Nonie’s dismissal.

  “He is rather too much for me and my capabilities, Greta. He is taking all my energy,” Nonie replied, looking up at the roof.

  “I am paying you to be capable, Nonie. That is what you are here for! Honestly, the works here cannot progress until we have this spirit moved out of the cottage. I can’t have the builders making any further excuses to stop working; not at this crucial stage. Or for any more interruptions to the renovations. I need you to help me, please!”

  Nonie nodded in silence. She paused before she spoke.

  “I don’t think I can be of any further help, dear. Not today, I am very weak. Perhaps another time.”

  “You are kidding, aren’t you? I want answers; I don’t want to wait any longer. Besides, it’s getting very expensive!” Greta stood firm.

  Nonie shook her head.

  “Sorry, Greta. I can’t do any more here. Do you mind taking me back to the ferry?”

  “I don’t believe it! In fact, I am beginning to think that the newspapers were right about you!”

  “What are you saying, dear?” Nonie looked taken aback.

  “That you are a fake! And that all your shows are staged and paying members of the public are being duped by your inability to communicate with the spirit world. I’m right, aren’t I?” Greta demanded.

  Nonie looked shocked. She thought for a while and then softly spoke.

  “Have you ever heard of someone called Barnabas?”

  Greta shook her head.

  “Barnabas? Barnabas who?”

  Nonie swallowed and looked up at the roof. “Just Barnabas.”

  Greta thought for a moment.

  “No, sorry. I’ve not heard of a Barnabas. Do you have another name? Surname or first name?”

  “Barnabas is the name I have been given. I didn’t want to say anything until I was quite sure. But, in the circumstances and to prove my worth, I felt compelled to tell you,” Nonie replied. She was still reeling from Greta’s verbal attack.

  “Okay. So we have a name. That’s a start, isn’t it? Anything else?” Greta continued.

  “One more name that I’ve been given… it could be a name or it could be a tree…”

  “Is it Willow, by any chance?” Greta asked impatiently.

  “Yes, dear. Funnily enough, it is,” Nonie replied. She looked distant.

  “Now we are getting somewhere. I have definitely heard of Willow. In fact, I have had a conversation or two with Willow, in the early hours. And of all places at my parents’ home!”

  Nonie nodded.

  “Hmm. Willow. Pretty name; pretty girl. She isn’t very old, what a terrible shame. Spirits don’t always stay in one place. They do travel about, particularly if they want to communicate with you. She obviously felt a strong need to contact you, wherever you might be.”

  Greta gritted her teeth. She was becoming increasingly frustrated with Nonie and her communication skills.

  “What was a shame?”

  Nonie looked sad.

  “That she died so young.”

  “Right. So we have established Willow died young and a man called Barnabas is in my kitchen wrecking my newly built well wall. What is the connection between them?”

  Nonie had closed her eyes once more and was concentrating very hard.

  “Hello, Evie. Right… I will.” Nonie was in a trance.

  Greta pursed her lips. She was irritated that she had to bully Nonie into doing what she was paid to do. The threat of being a fake and not paying her had spurred her into a delayed reaction. Now she was finally getting somewhere. She felt Nonie was conning her and making excuses to come back again, to retrieve a further fee.

  “What has Evie told you?” Greta cut to the chase.

  “Something quite disturbing, dear,” Nonie replied, her eyes still tightly shut.

  “Tell me something new!” Greta mumbled.

  “Okay, I will,” Nonie replied. “Willow told me that she was murdered. Here at Greenacres. This Barnabas, was involved. In fact, Barnabas was the perpetrator.”

  Greta nodded. “So she was telling the truth, definitely murdered?” she whispered. “And this Barnabas person murdered Willow?”

  “Yes, dear. He apparently strangled her. That’s what she informed me. She is very scared.” Nonie looked up to the window once more.

  “What of? What’s she scared of?” Greta nervously asked.

  “Scared that he might… that he might do it again,” Nonie responded.

  “What do you mean? That’s impossible, he can’t kill her again, can he? When was Willow murdered? Can she give you any sort of date or timescale?” Greta gripped Nonie’s arm.

  “Yes, she gave me a date… 1701. In the winter of 1701. It was cold; snow was lying thickly on the ground. She remembers the cold; so cold… his
hands gripping hard around her neck; her breath, shallow… fighting for breath. The cold biting, his hands tightening around her neck, his hands were cold… then nothing…”

  “How terrible!” Greta was shocked to think of a murder happening in such a tranquil location. “What about Evie? What happened to Evie? Did she die here too?”

  Nonie paused then nodded her head solemnly.

  “Yes, dear. She died here too. She died in the garden.”

  “Oh no; what happened to her? Did she have a heart attack?” Greta knowingly played along.

  “No, dear. I’m sorry to say that she too was murdered.”

  Greta raised her eyebrows. “Great! So I have a cottage steeped in a murderous past! Aren’t I lucky?”

  “Not so long ago, it happened within the last few years. It was a man with the same name… he pushed her… pushed her so hard she couldn’t get up again… the ground was wet against her skin… he knelt over her, where she lay, holding her down… holding his hand over her nose and mouth… he had cold, clammy hands…”

  “What do you mean, by a man with the same name? Surely they weren’t both called Barnabas; that would be too much of a coincidence! Anyway, there is a couple of hundred years between them!” Greta’s mind raced.

  “Both had the same name, dear. That is what Evie is telling me. Both had the same surname!”

  Greta looked alarmed. She jumped as her phone began to ring. She pressed the ignore button.

  “What’s the surname?”

  Nonie didn’t answer immediately. She was in spiritual communication again. She eventually spoke.

  “Sorry, dear. They’ve gone. I can’t get any more information from them.”

  Nonie flopped back on to the millstone, gasping with exhaustion. Greta was speechless. She held her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her hair. She got up and paced around the garden.

  “Are you sure they didn’t give you any clues as to what the name was?” she spoke at length.

  “No, dear. They have both gone now. I cannot raise them.”

  Greta thought for a moment.

  “Nonie, would you mind staying overnight? Perhaps we can continue with this investigation tomorrow? How would you feel about that? How is your diary fixed?”

  Nonie considered.

  “I would love to, dear, provided I can get some rest. My diary is free for the next few days. I think we have a mystery on our hands that needs to be solved.”

  “I can offer you a room at my mother’s house. I just need to make a phone call to confirm things with her,” Greta replied.

  “That would be fine, dear. I am feeling rather shattered now and am in need of a lie down.” Nonie looked flushed.

  “You’ve certainly proved one thing,” Greta smiled.

  “What’s that, dear?”

  “You certainly aren’t a fake!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Greta turned the key in the car’s ignition as Nonie again wrestled with her seatbelt and her large, red handbag. They drove slowly back up the unmade lane. A flock of birds circled around the cottage high in the air; crows cawed in the tops of the ash trees that lined the garden at Greenacres. Pigeons fought for space in amongst the branches as dusk was beginning to fall. The sky was turning to aubergine with flames of red stripes, tinged with pink. The trees in the distance were grey against the failing light.

  “Mummy is looking forward to meeting you, Nonie. I found out recently that she is quite keen on paranormal topics. I expect she’ll want to quiz you a bit.”

  Nonie smiled. “Most people do want to pick my brain, when they find out what I do. Curiosity mainly.”

  “Right.”

  They hadn’t seen the dark figure crouching low down and close to the hedgerow along the lane. As the car passed by, it suddenly sprang into life and made a dash towards the cottage. The figure was of a man, dressed in black with an athletic physique as he tore off at a sprint to the back of Greenacres and into the garden. Stopping to catch his breath, he pulled out a mobile phone and dialled a number. Swallowing to compose himself, he spoke.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Now what?” He waited as he was given an instruction. “Seriously? You’re not right in the head, mate. Surely not?” he questioned his task that he had been instructed to complete. “I might be fit and healthy, but that’s just outrageous!” He ended the call abruptly and swore to himself. Clearly, he was not happy with what he had been told to do. He shook his head and made another call.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Look, I can’t see you tonight. Something has come up. No, not sure. I’ll ring you. Bye.”

  The man paced around the garden for a time, muttering to himself in the gathering darkness. He lit a cigarette and took a long, deep draw, so the amber embers were quite prominent against the sky. He pulled a small metal hip flask from his coat pocket and took a swig from it. He made a face as the alcohol trickled down his throat. He paced around the garden for a few minutes and then turned on his heel. He picked up a large stone from the ground and threw it purposefully at the kitchen window. The impact was minimal as the glass fractured into a million pieces, however it held its place within its UPVC frame. The man used his elbow to clear away spent shards, which scattered on to the floor. He reached inside and turned the handle and the frame opened easily.

  Once inside, the man held a torch to the entrance to the well and pulled out his phone. He made another call. He spoke in a hushed whisper.

  “I’m in; now what?” He awaited further instruction. “Is that possible?” he questioned. “You’re having a joke… yeah, right!”

  He leaned over the hole in the floor where the pile of bricks lay scattered and shone the torch down inside. “It’s a long way down; where? Are you sure?” He wildly looked around for a ladder. “There isn’t one; they must have taken it.” He added, “I don’t know, she’s only just left. Okay, I’ll try… I said, I’ll try, I can’t promise anything! You don’t even know what’s down there!”

  He ended the call and shone the torch around the kitchen. The builders had taken the ladder with them. The man, in desperation, peered down the entrance to the hole. As he was leaning over, deciding whether to jump, a shadowy male figure, which was stood behind him, rose up and swiftly pushed with such force the man instantly disappeared down the hole.

  “Erghhhhhh!” His voice disappeared into the well as he fell. He landed with a smack on the ground and laid still. He was still holding the torch as he tried to move.

  “Argh!” he yelped as a sharp pain travelled up from his ankle. “Shit!” His phone rang simultaneously.

  “Yeah? No, I’m not all right. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was at the top, and for some reason, it felt like something pushed me. I fell down it. I’ve done something to my bloody ankle. It is killing me! I don’t know! I haven’t tried to move it.”

  He tried to get up. The pain from his ankle was intense. He had been immobilised. “Sorry mate, no can do. I have done some serious damage to it. I need help!” he panted as the pain from his ankle made him close his eyes in agony. “I think I’ve broken it! I can’t feel my toes. I’m in a bad way! You need to get me out of here, now! You and your hare-brained ideas… you’d better had get me out; I’m telling you, I’m not staying here till they get back! What? You have got to be kidding me!” He was incredulous. “Hello? Hello? Well, fuck you then!” He threw the phone across the ground and it disappeared into a mass of mud and cobwebs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Delighted to meet you, Ms Spangler!” Jeanne held out her hand to Nonie. “Do come in. I am Jeanne and this is my husband, Charles.” She indicated to Charles who was loitering in the doorway staring at her in a very dubious way.

  Nonie smiled and shook his hand.

  “I will show you to your room, dear.” Jeanne fussed Nonie towards the staircase and indicated for her to follow.

  “What a charming house, Mrs Standing.” Nonie slowly climbed the stairs and gazed at the paintings adorning the wal
ls as she went.

  “Oh! Call me Jeanne, please!” Jeanne cooed. She reached the landing and pointed to a door. “Here is your room, dear. Freshen up and come down for a cup of tea. I will be serving it in the drawing room!”

  “Thank you. But if it’s all the same with you, I will have a lie down. I’m feeling rather weak.” Nonie sank down on to the bed and sighed.

  “Oh, oh, that’s such a shame,” Jeanne looked disappointed but overcame it with a smile. She took the hint to leave. She quietly closed the bedroom door behind her.

  Greta was in the living room with her father. Jeanne spoke in a whisper.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Do you have psychic problems at Greenacres?”

  “You could say that,” Greta smiled weakly.

  “And…?” Jeanne was in suspense. She folded her arms and clutched her sides tightly.

  “I think Greenacres is haunted,” Greta announced.

  “Oh no! My dear girl!” Jeanne spluttered. “Does Maxim know?”

  Greta nodded. “Yes. But he’s so sceptical. He thinks he may have heard or seen something. But he isn’t convinced. I told him I thought it was haunted and managed to talk him around to getting Nonie to investigate.”

  Jeanne was perversely intrigued. Her eyes were wide with unmistakable excitement. “Has she found anything?”

  “Yes, it is unravelling to be a bit of a crime scene; historically; not in recent times.”

  “How fascinating!” Jeanne perched on the edge of Charles’s armchair. “How romantic!”

  “I wouldn’t say it is romantic, mummy. Unnerving is more the case and a pain in the bum.”

  “Have you seen anything untoward?” Jeanne probed.

  “Hmmm, possibly. But I need to know for sure; from Nonie.”

  Jeanne paused before she eventually spoke.

  “But isn’t she a fake, dear? A phoney?”

  “That’s what I need to establish. I have an inkling of what is going on at Greenacres myself. But I need to hear it and have it confirmed from someone independently.”